Anchors Away
by Ripper101
Summary: Jack Sparrow gets a little leverage on the good Commodore, and amuses himself along the way. Slash innuendo.


Disclaimer: I do not claim to own 'Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl' or the characters therein that I make use of in this fiction.

Pairing: Well… no real pairing. But possible Gilette/ Norrington and Sparrow/ Norrington.

Author's Note: I couldn't resist. It just wrote itself, I swear. So if you must blame someone, blame my fingers. They typed with no thought for what I wanted them to type. Oh, and I understand that they might sound a little out of character. I'm not very good yet as getting the personalities right.

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"I was rooting for him."

Gilette nodded vaguely and drained his tankard.

Jack Sparrow looked from his mug to his companion's and grimaced. The youngster was ina tavern with the best rum in the whole Caribbean and he drank beer! Was there anything more ridiculous? He shook his dark head and downed his own drink.

"What did you mean by that?" Gilette slurred, waving enthusiastically for the barmaid to leave off her flirting and serve him.

The wrong sort of bar for this one, Jack knew. No one 'served' as such in this tavern, especially if they were otherwise occupied. And Milly- if that really was the wench's name and his memory was starting to slip just a little where women's names were concerned- would probably throw something as Gilette for his high and mighty ways. He ducked casually under the table.

Gilette blinked at him and bent down. "Something wrong, Mr. Sparrow?"

A shoe flew past the young man's head barely an inch off target.

"Captain Sparrow, mate- Captain! And don't ask the chit to come for ye. She's above that sort of thing right now."

Gilette looked in the direction the missile had flown with a very wondering glance and then shrugged and turned back. "I di'n't want more anyway."

Jack crawled out from under the table and looked around. There were no more missiles- thrown or otherwise- and he felt it was perfectly within his rights to sit at the table instead of under it. After all, he was a paying customer. And if that floozy in the corner was anything to go by, he could think of quite a few ways to empty his purse before the night was through.

Which is to specify, if his unexpected companion left him alone. It had been quite a shock, coming to a place like the Green Leaf, to see Lieutenant Gilette sitting there, already on his way to being pickled. Sparrow had seriously considered slinking out the back way at the sight of his enthusiastic face; he was a wanted man in Port Royal and even visiting the home of the Governor's daughter was still liable to get him killed.

Gilette had taken one look at him and gotten to his feet. Only to fall over them the minute he tried to arrest him. The pirate had ended up helping him back into his seat and pacifying him with another drink just so he wouldn't break himself.

"You didn't say," the lieutenant slurred.

"Say what, mate?" Sparrow asked, gulping at his rum and enjoying the spicy sweet burn. The floozy was giving him the eye. But his body told him he wasn't interested in the, uh, charms she had out on display.

"What you said to Commodore Norrington," Gilette called, "He doesn't know what it meant either."

Loud. Much too loud!

Heads turned and the tavern began to get very quiet. A burly looking bloke with a pair of scarred, meaty fists straightened himself from the bar with a growl.

Sparrow gulped and leaned forward, eyes darting around in some apprehension as he motioned quickly to Gilette to quieten down. "Lower your voice, man! That name is not to be mentioned here, savvy?"

"What name? The Commodore's?"

Sparrow cursed under his breath and stumbled to his feet. The silence was growing and people were taking steps towards their table. He grinned ingratiatingly around at them, and used his hands to tell everyone that the man in front of him was mad.

"A smart man is the Commodore," Gilette slurred again, hiccupping for good measure. He propped his mousy brown head in his hand, completely unconcerned about anything beyond what he was saying. "A good man. Too goods to 'ssociate with you pirates and rumrunners."

That did it. An ugly whisper moved amongst the crowd. Sparrow hissed and bit his fist in frustration. The man really was an idiot! And a blind-drunk idiot to boot! But he did feel a little pitying for him; Gilette's voice was filled with admiration and… was that hero-worship? The pirate frowned and leaned down to listen.

"What did you mean, Captain Jack Sparrow? You said you were rooting for him. Poor Commodore Norrington; poor James." A lone tear trickled down the inebriated man's face.

Jack Sparrow had a heart. And it was jumping up and down telling him to get the man out of here. Besides, his brain told him that he might get some blackmail material out of the good Lieutenant. "Get up! Get up and come with me."

He hauled at a thin arm and dragged the man to the door. "Begging your pardon," he offered, nodding conciliatorily, "He's just had a bit too much to drink, lads. He doesn't know what he says. I'll be taking him home, now."

"He sounds," the burly man growled, "As if he be knowing the Commodore." He got off the bar and cracked his knuckles threateningly.

Sparrow winced at the sound but fixed his smile firmer. "Now, now, mate, ye know not to trust anything a man says in his cups. Why, he might be lying!"

"And he might not."

He might not. Jack couldn't argue with that. His brain wasn't focussed on the problem anyway. He sighed irritably, pulled out his pistol and cocked it. "I would step aside, if I was you."

"You only have one shot," another man snarled. He too came up and stood in front of them.

Jack didn't take his eyes off his opposition. He didn't need to. Years of experience taught him to count heads when in a tavern and he knew that there were a group of men scattered around who would probably be spoiling to get a piece of the man swaying in the grip of his left hand. He also knew there were those who would jump into any fight with glad cry. And in close quarters he would be able to do nothing after that first shot.

He tightened his fingers on Gilette's arm and ignored the muffled oath of pain that slipped out of that wide mouth.

"It will take only one shot to kill someone," he said, allowing his coldest, most dangerous smile to come to the fore. "And then I use my sword."

The men drew back as he let his eyes flick down to the weapon at his side. The big one scratched his chin and looked perturbed. "Who in hell's fires are you?"

The man's smile never wavered. "I am Captain Jack Sparrow."

The men drew back further. " 'e said 'e knew the Commodore," the thin man pointed out, "Those navy dogs 'ave been plaguing us for two years. We oughta wring their necks."

A low murmur of approval flitted up.

Jack sighed, a melodramatic sigh of knowing and humour. "Lad, do ye think a navy boy would take his drink in this pit? Besides, a lonely man like the Commodore must meet so _many_… young men."

Gilette's brain was slowly processing the low chuckles and shrewd looks at his person. He decided he didn't like it and glared at the nearest one. For the moment, his brain was still struggling to pinpoint the innuendo. He knew the Commodore was being spoken of, he knew that he didn't quite like what Captain Sparrow was implying, but he didn't quite get what… and then he did.

"Pardon me!? If- if you think…"

Sparrow turned and slammed the butt of the pistol into the side of Gilette's head. He turned to two enquiring looks and grinned jauntily. "He wouldn't come quietly."

The two laughed and stood aside.

Sparrow felt his heart give that familiar thud and sweeping soar as he narrowly scraped out of another sticky situation. Really, even the scum of the earth was getting too hostile these days. He thought fondly back to days when the tavern had been a much friendlier place. There was that young lad, then, what was his name- Giles? No, no, something… Thomas! That was it- Thomas!

Ah, yes, a pretty young thing, too. Lovely dark hair.

Gilette's unconscious form was a rather heavy burden to tug down unpaved alleyways, but Sparrow was no weakling. That, and he didn't want to just dump the man so soon after saving his sozzled neck.

"You owe me, lad," he murmured, taking him to the one place he knew he'd be safe.

Commodore Norrington was asleep when Jack Sparrow entered his room, stealthily and with his sword at the ready. Even the soft click of wooden beads failed to rouse the man from his slumbers. Which was when Sparrow bounced up onto the bed and stood over his captive.

Norrington came awake with a gasp, blinking in the shadows.

Dark hair… lovely, long, untangled dark hair. And all that creamy pale skin! The pirate almost salivated at the thought. But that wasn't what he had come for, more was the pity. It was, however, one of the first things to come to mind now that he was fairly happy with drink and still replaying Gilette's thinly veiled confessions in his head. But it wouldn't do- it really wouldn't do- to sleep with someone so focused on breaking his neck.

"Commodore," he greeted, jumping off and miming a swordsman's greeting to the other male. "Did I wake you?"

"Pirate," the man breathed, panting softly.

"Aye. Clever of ye to remember," Sparrow teased. He put his sword away but kept a hand on the hilt. "Now, Commodore, I found a good friend of yours wandering around dark places this night. Brought him back here for ye."

"Brought him… who?"

"Ah, Lieutenant Gilette, I believe. John." Sparrow looked vastly pleased with himself.

Norrington looked anything but. He got carefully out of bed, moving slowly with no threatening movements. He refused to sit in a bed in the moonlight with no shirt and a smirking pirate. Especially when he had heard the rumours about said pirate. He would prefer a sword himself, buta shirt would do forthe moment.

He had almost reached it when the sword scraped half out of its scabbard.

"No, no, no, Commodore. Not just yet."

"I was going to dress," Norrington pointed out quietly. Midnight really was the worst time to meet Jack Sparrow unarmed. The moonlight put the most distressingly dangerous glamour on the man.

"Leave it be, mate, you'll be going back to bed in a few minutes, I wager." Jack grinned. He couldn't help himself! It was far too much of a temptation not to.

The green eyes went wide and Norrington actually shrank back ever so slightly, fury and unease mixed in equal parts in his first unguarded expression since that fateful day they had met. He seemed to view the very thought with revulsion.

Sparrow philosophically shrugged the tiniest jolt of disappointment away from himself. It had been nothing but a passing interest anyway. "I left him on the doorstep, Commodore. He'll have the devil of a head in the morning."

"He's drunk? Bloody hell, but I warned him not to do this! Every morning it is the same thing!" The Commodore caught himself up short and tightened his jaw. "Forget what I just said."

"Consider it blown away on the wind. Well, then, darlin', I'll just be taking my leave.No sense in staying, eh? I may try to touch." With a last longing glance at that dark hair and a heartfelt groan, he disappeared out the window again.

Commodore James Norrington stood still for a few moments, unable to truly comprehend that he had just been complimented- in the most indecent of ways- by a pirate. And one of his most trusted Lieutenants was passed out on his doorstep. He muttered a curse appropriate to the situation and went to investigate. Thankfully none of his household had awoken just yet.

Gilette was, as specified, on his doorstep. He sighed and pulled him up, grappling with the dead weight to heft it over the threshold.

"Com' dore?" the man murmured, eyes slitting open just a little.

Norrington stilled and raised an eyebrow. Drunk or not, if Gilette was awake then he would have a lot of explaining to do about a lot of things. It was either that, or get discharged from his duties.

He was not prepared for Lieutenant Gilette to wrap his arms around his neck and lift his head. He was certainly not prepared for a clumsy, passionate kiss full on the mouth. He gulped in his throat and tried to pull away.

But the arms tightened. And a slick tongue was demanding entrance. With his brain short-circuiting in shock, he felt his mouth open obediently.

And then Gilette pulled away, all fiery eyes and swollen lips, his pale face flushed from alcohol and lust. "James," he whispered, and then passed out again.

Norrington was frozen. A quiet chuckle caught his ears and he looked up hurriedly to meet Sparrow's amused eyes.

"I did think he had it bad for you, luv," the pirate said smugly, "Bit of an amateur, eh?"

"You- you… pervert!"

"Commodore, I am not the one standing half-naked in my doorway, holding a young man of some attraction in me arms, savvy?" Sparrow paced for a minute, tapping his chin in thought. He turned as if struck with inspiration. "Sodomy's a whipping crime, is it not? In the Navy, I mean. Tell me, Commodore, ever been striped with a lash before? Is it worth the pretty young thing you're holding? You've got to ask yourself these questions, mate."

"Sparrow, you will not- and I repeat not- spread these lies to anyone. Do you hear? No one!"

"What! Not even Elizabeth!" Oh, Sparrow was enjoying himself far too much.

Norrington shifted the weight to his other arm impatiently. "What do you need to keep you quiet?"

A lewd grin. "A bit of what he gets, luv."

"No!" Gilette was dropped just inside the door and then Norrington came out, furious beyond measure. "Get out of my sight, you bastard, before I strangle you with my bare hands. You are a lying, cheating pirate and it is your word against mine!"

"Ah, but I have never yet lied, Commodore, while people… people do not like you."

Sparrow was tantalizingly within range.

"No."

Dark eyes looked into green eyes, one framed with dark lashes and the other lined with smudged kohl.

Sparrow sighed. He was so close he could see Norrington flinch. He did share a certain empathetic understanding for the situation the Commodore was in. Which didn't prevent him in the least from pressing his advantage. So he steepled his fingers before his mouth and took a large step forward, almost bouncing at the thought of the mischief he could do.

"Afraid ye have no choice here, darlin'," he said regretfully, "A man like yourself, a fine man indeed, but unmarried. Not even a young lady down in the town to vouch for you." He'd checked on that a year ago, hoping to find some kind of leverage on the man hunting him down.

"I would have been," Norrington snapped scathingly, "She married another man."

"Some would say that there was no doubt Ms. Swann was angling to become Mrs. Turner," Sparrow grinned, "People talk."

That pale body stiffened so hard in the moonlight that Jack fearedit would snap if he so much as pokedit with a finger. He didn't, naturally, make it a habit to poke Commodores with his finger, but this time he made a conscious effort not to.

"What is it you want of me." It was a statement, not a question.

Sparrow, until this moment, had considered taking his leave. But the Commodore had given in so easily! Now what was the why of that, he wondered. "As I said before- a bit of what he got."

"He got nothing."

"He got a kiss."

"He was drunk! He did not know what he was doing! I do not, contrary to expectations, Mr. Sparrow, establish a personal relationship with my lieutenants. Certainly not of the kind you are insinuating."

The pirate looked from Norrington's face to the slumped figure in the shadowy doorway. "Have ye told him, Commodore?" he asked, pointing to Gilette, "Might find he has different ideas."

The flicker of consternation and surprise was quite gratifying in the circumstances. That, and discomfort. But the younger man let none of his control over his actions slip. He neither looked away nor shifted his stance. He kept his eyes fixed on his antagonist and challenged him wordlessly to keep going.

Unfortunately, as his antagonist would happily have told him, he was dealing with a man who didn't only dare to keep going, but took a dare as a personal invitation. Sparrow swayed closer still. "Only a kiss, luv," he purred, "And then I'll be on me merry way."

"A kiss… I should run you through right now."

"Aye, but with what?" Sparrow pointed out lewdly, eyeing Norrington's state of undress and his lack of weaponry.

A flush tinted that pale face- finally!- and then Norrington shrugged. "I refuse."

Sparrow seemed to be considering that, his head cocked in thought, his face inscrutable. Norrington didn't trust the pirate captain when he looked like that. Not that he trusted the pirate captain when any expression graced those delicate features. It was surprising how moonlight brought out mysterious hollows in Jack Sparrow's face.

"Very well, then." The pirate doffed his tri-cornered hat, the wooden beads in his hair clicking quietly with movement as he bowed.

Norrington frowned slightly. He gasped in surprise a moment later when Jack suddenly wrapped his arms around him and placed a soft kiss on his lips. Delicate fingers trickled through his unbound hair with a slow slither, catching on a small knot and freeing it gently.

"Until later, then," the pirate whispered. But loud! Far too loud! Norrington shoved him away and Sparrow went, laughing. "Anchors away, luv. Let the games begin."

A soft sound flit away into the night and Norrington spun around to find his recovering Lieutenant staring at him with wounded eyes. The man was… well, getting slowly to his feet, a hand at his no doubt aching head with his cheeks flushed and his jaw clenched against the pain. But which pain? The pain in his head, or the one that seemed to be pouring of his eyes? And why was there pain in his eyes?

"S- sir," the man stammered, "I- I am sorry for this intrusion. I- I do not know…"

Norrington raised a hand to rub his forehead. He could feel a headache coming on. First Jack, and now Gilette? Was there no peace in all of Port Royal?! "Go home, Lieutenant. Or are you still incapacitated?"

"I- I am fine, sir. I can't think…"

"No, you never do, do you? I warned you of what I would do if you persisted in this ridiculous way of life." Norrington knew he was being harsh, but he couldn't stop himself. The man just _stood_ there, like a kicked puppy!

"Yes, sir." No questioning, no pleas. Just pride and sorrow.

The Commodore gave up. He pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes. "Go away, Gilette. I shall look the other way this time."

"Thank you, sir."

The young man brushed passed him as he made his slow way out of the garden and to the gate.

"Gilette?"

The man turned with an enquiring look on his hopeful face.

Norrington swallowed and squared his shoulders. "Come to my office tomorrow, please. We need to talk."

Gilette looked confused but nodded, offered a weak salute and left.

Norrington sighed and went back inside. Anchors away, indeed! He could only imagine what demented plan Jack Sparrow had up his sleeve this time. And damn the man to hell, but he had managed to make quite the mess of the Commodore's tidy little life in just one short night! _And_ he had got his own way at the last, never mind the feelings of the man he had kissed.

The Commodore touched his mouth, half-expecting to find that his lips had changed since that incident. But they felt the same, if a little inclined to tremble.

'Let the games begin,' Sparrow had said.

Oh God, he was doomed!


End file.
